


Athene

by ZedElla (Leviarty)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Body Paint, Festivals, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Marking, Off-World, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/ZedElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years later, he finally learns how to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Athene

**Author's Note:**

> Sheppard is in command of Atlantis, and the team has disbanded, but they’re still the best of friends; Rodney only goes off world when necessary, Teyla serves as a diplomat between Atlantis and many other cultures, Ronon has joined a team of marines. And Lorne has been promoted.
> 
> [Here](https://soundcloud.com/leviarty/sets/otherwoldly-celebration) is the playlist I listened to while writing this, if you like that sort of thing.

The trade negotiations with the Etarans happened to coincide with the eve of their Festival of Color, and Teyla had made it very clear that to deny an invitation to such a festival would be a great insult among many cultures. So, naturally, when the High Chancellor of Etara, a woman with whom they had been trading with since their first year in Atlantis, invited them to stay for the festivities, Lt. Col. Lorne knew better than to say no.

“And you should extend an invite to your leaders,” Chancellor Nimia suggested. “We have not seen Colonel Sheppard and his team for many moons.”

 

 

Which is how Sheppard found himself suited up and heading through the ‘gate with Teyla, Rodney, and Ronon, for the first time in nearly six months.

“This is ridiculous,” Rodney complained. “I have work to be doing.”

“The Etarans invited us,” John said, rolling his eyes a little. “Besides, you were just saying the other day how you missed regular missions.”

“By which I meant, missions to places with potential knowledge and discovery. Not to a village of allies with nothing more than crops.”

“They supply us with a sizable chunk of the food we need, Rodney,” John reminded him. “Or do you not like having regular meals?”

Rodney huffed, while Ronon chuckled in the background.

“What do we know about this festival?” John asked. “Have you ever attended?”

Teyla nodded. “Only once, when I was a very young woman. It is a celebration like no other. There will be food and wine, dancing, painting. I believe we will all enjoy it.”

“Anything we should be wary of?” Rodney asked, concerned, as always, about the contents of the food and wine.

Teyla shook her head. “They have been allies of Atlantis for many years, and they receive many needs from us. They would have no reason to wish us harm.”

“The only thing you have to worry about is how you handle your liquor,” Ronon said.

 

 

It was a twenty minute walk from the gate to the village, and when they arrived, Lorne was there waiting for them. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Colonel,” Sheppard said. “What’s it looking like?”

“The village put us up for the night in their nicest guest house,” Lorne said. “Coughlin, Reed, and Watts are helping set up as we speak. Looks like good, old fashioned fun.” Lorne was as calm and cool as ever, and looked perfectly content to join in whatever festivities were on the roster. “Things won’t really get going for another hour or so, but I think most of the villagers started drinking when the sun came up, so we’re a few glasses behind.”

“Lead the way, Colonel.”

“If the party doesn’t start for another hour, why are we here?” Rodney whispered.

“Relax, Rodney, your toys will still be on Atlantis when we get back.”

 

 

They spent the next little while helping to prepare the village square, hanging streamers and paper balloons, filling the oil lanerns with chemicals to change the color of the flame, and setting out table after table with delicious smelling food.

“Tart wine, Dr. McKay?” one of the leaders asked, offering him a glass of clear liquid.

“Is there citrus in it?” Rodney asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Just take it,” John hissed under his breath, as he accepted a glass of rose-colored wine from another villager. He thanked her and took a sip.

“Thanks,” Rodney said, though he looked anything but grateful. He waited until the leader walked away before sniffing the wine. Deciding he better not, he handed the glass over to Ronon, who downed it in a single gulp.

 

 

The party began with a particularly rowdy group of people playing drums and horns, while several dangerously tipsy villagers danced circles around them.

“You know, I don’t actually think there’s any alcohol in this,” Ronon said, frowning down his sixth glass of strangely colored liquid.

John hadn’t realized it before, but now that it was mentioned, he realized that Ronon might have been right.

“You are correct,” Princeps Icari said. “The alcohol content is very low. The real drinking does not begin until the evening.”

“I feel extremely betrayed,” Reed said.

“Then what’s their excuse?” Lorne asked, bobbing his head in the direction of the tipsiest of dancers.

“I believe they are simply joyful,” Teyla said. “This celebration is meant to defy the Wraith. They have survived another year.”

“Not all of them,” Ronon said. Just a few months ago, the Etarans suffered a great culling, lost many of their number.

“But not all of them were taken,” Teyla said firmly. “They still remain, and that is cause for celebration.”

“And you have helped us rebuild in our greatest time of need,” Chancellor Bibai said, bringing them another round of drinks. “A healthy, profitable alliance is more than enough for celebration.”

 

 

Atlantis didn’t host many celebrations – there had been a big party shortly after she rose from the ocean, and again after their first major defeat of the Wraith, and of course upon their return after beating back the Replicators. They had their share of parties, especially once the scientists figured out how the distillery (they think Sheppard doesn’t know about), and they’re happy to engage in any sort of activity that includes the possibility of day drinking, but more often than not, it’s a little morbid, feeling more like a wake than a party.

And while the Etarans had suffered plenty of loss, the Festival of Color was nothing like the ‘parties’ in Atlantis.

“Admit it, McKay, you’re having fun,” John half whispered when he caught Rodney grinning after dancing with a group of happy people.

“I’ll admit no such thing,” he said, quickly covering his face with a scowl. John laughed, and accepted the fruity-smelling drink someone had handed him. Rodney, however, was still nervous about the contents of the drinks. He accepted the liquid, but did not sip it.

“Here,” Sheppard said, reaching for his glass. He took a small sip and passed it back. “No citrus. I think you’ll like it.”

“You _think_ there’s no citrus.”

John rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rodney, just try it.”

“And when I go into anaphylactic shock? It’s half an hour to the ‘Gate.”

“We’ve got epi-pens. And Ronon can run faster than that.”

Rodney rolled his eyes but took the glass back. He paused when the brim toughed his lips.

“Rodney,” John said in a warning tone.

“No, no, I’m just thinking about what happened last time we shared a drink.”

“We’ve attended Etaran marriage ceremonies,” John said. “Nothing in their rights includes the sharing of food and drinks among the betrothed. Just drink it.”

Rodney obeyed. “Hmm. It’s sweet.”

 

 

John had seen a lot of terrible things in his life, especially since arriving in Pegasus. He’d lost a lot of people. Sometimes they were people he hardly knew, and the guilt ate at him more than the loss of his close friends.

Living in Atlantis was like a dream, and while, on the whole, they were happy, it sometimes felt like living in a graveyard. They’d all suffered loss, all feared for what tomorrow would bring.

Observing the Etaran holiday made him wish they could all be a little freer with their happiness, not live in fear.

 

 

“Does anyone else smell smoke?” Lorne asked, his whole body tensing visibly. Darkness had just set in, though the vibrant lanterns now lit the square. The smell did not originate with them.

“It’s the bonfire,” the young man near him said, his smile growing. “It’s time to move to the fields.”

Sheppard and Lorne exchanged a momentary look of concern as the people around them formed a crowd moving toward the edge of town. Several of them began shedding layers of clothing. Sheppard could see Teyla, Ronon and Rodney being dragged away by the crowd, though none of them appeared concerned.

“Reed, Watts, head back to the gate and check in,” Lorne said over his shoulder.

Sheppard, Lorne, and Coughlin brought up the rear of the group, and by the time they reached the clearing, there were hundreds of topless people milling around the bonfire.

“That’s different,” Coughlin said, a curious look on his face.

Amina, one of the young women training to become a trader, spun past them, wearing nothing but a billowing skirt. “It’s time for the painting ceremony,” she said, handing each of them a brush.

“And what, exactly, is the painting ceremony?” Lorne asked, cocking his brow.

“We mark the bodies of our loved ones,” she explained. She turned to show the small emblem that had been painted across her back in gold – it looked like some kind of flower. “In whatever way is most meaningful to the artist.”

“And you’re all not wearing shirts because…” Coughlin questioned.

“To provide ample canvas with which to work. We have many loved ones,” she said, as another young woman approached with a brush full of white paint. She painted some kind of bird on Amina’s shoulder, kissed her on the lips, and danced away. “Won’t you join us?” she asked.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” Coughlin said.

“That is your right,” she said. “Colonels?”

Lorne looked at Sheppard and shrugged.  “When in Rome, right?” He unzipped his jacket and pulled his tee over his head, tossing them both at Coughlin, before going off to find some paint.

John looked out into the crowd, where Ronon and Teyla had already lost their shirts. “I’ll think about it,” he told Amina. Still, she handed him a brush before moving on.

John wandered toward the crowd, spotting Rodney standing near the edge, looking on with a befuddled expression. “This is truly bizarre,” he said, sensing John’s approach.

“I’ll say. Not partaking?”

“I think I’ll spare everyone the horror,” Rodney said.

John laughed. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Rodney.” Sure, he wasn’t as buff as the marines, nor as thin as the Etarans, but years of running from the Wraith certainly had its affect.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re still fully clothed.”

John shrugged. “I’ll do it if you do.”

“That’s hardly a fair trade. There are no doubt numerous people here who would like to see you shirtless.”

“I think you have me confused with Lorne,” he said, nodding toward Lorne, who had a small crowd following him around.

“Alright, you’re maybe not that popular.”

John gasped. “Now you're saying I’m not pretty enough?”

“Oh my god, if I take off my shirt, will you shut up?”

“Yes,” John said, grinning.

“Fine, but you still have to take yours off.”

John nodded, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “I knew you always wanted to see me naked.”

“I thought we agreed you’d shut up.”

“Your shirt’s not off yet.”

Rodney groaned loudly, but finally took off his layers.

A group of women danced toward them, as if they had some kind of radar. “You must dance with us,” they said.

“I’m not much for dancing,” John said, a mischievous smile growing across his lips. “But I’m sure Dr. McKay would love to join you.”

Before Rodney could disagree, they had dragged him off into the crowd.

 

 

“This is fun,” Ronon said, when he finally made it to John. He seemed a little out of breath, and sweat had started to smear some of the paint marks he had all over his upper body. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I prefer to watch,” he said, then frowned. “That didn’t come out right, did it?”

Ronon shook his head,

“Hey, what’s this?” John asked, reaching for his right arm. Most of the paintmarks were simple, messy shapes, but this one was a careful, detailed image of Ronon’s energy weapon.

“Lorne did it,” he said. “You should see the one he did for McKay.”

“Oh?” John raised his eyebrows.

Ronon nodded, then grabbed his paintbrush from where it stuck out of his hair. “Can I?”

Sheppard waved his hands in the air, which Ronon took as permission. He quickly painted a symbol on his shoulder.  John didn’t recognize its meaning, but Ronon explained. “It’s an old Satedan word. For a great leader.”

“Thanks,” John said, unsure of the feeling it gave him.

“I’m gonna go back,” Ronon said, shoving the paintbrush back in it’s place before running off.

Teyla made her way over to him shortly after, wearing much less paint than Ronon had been, but still quite colorful. It was strange, seeing her wander around topless like it was nothing. He had, of course, seen her naked when changing in the locker rooms, or offworld, but this was a different thing altogether. He wasn’t quite sure where to put his eyes.

She laughed, recognizing his discomfort, and held out a palate of colors. “Perhaps you would like to paint something?” she said.

“I’m not-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I do not care if you are a terrible artist. You will paint something.”

He nodded, knowing the argument was lost before it could begin. He took his brush out of his pocket and dipped it into the well of silvery paint. With broad strokes, he painted a wide band around one of her wrists.

She frowned at him when he was done, perhaps disappointed by his lack of skill.

“It’s Wonder Woman,” he explained. “I tried to tell you I’m not very good.”

She smiled. “She is one of the heroes of Earth, right?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

“Evan explained that this was the symbol of Superwoman,” she said, pointing to the red crest on her other arm. It was much simpler than the one he'd given Ronon, but still beautiful. “And Ronon made this,” she pointed to the series of triangles that mirrored his tattoo, but took up much less space. John knew it was a kind of blessing, meant to draw evil out. “And this was Rodney.” She indicated to an Ancient word he didn’t recognize the meaning of.

“Rodney is painting?”

She nodded. “Perhaps if you’d join us all in dancing, he’ll paint something for you as well.”

“I’m beginning to think there’s a conspiracy to get me to embarrass myself more than I already have,” John said. “I’m on to you.”

“There is no such conspiracy. I am merely saying you should not deny yourself the pleasure of this joyous occasion,” she said, painting a quick Athosian symbol on his arm. “Please join us.”

John sighed and took her outstretched hand. “If you insist.”

She smiled and pulled him closer to the fire.

 

 

“I see she finally wore you down, sir,” Lorne said, wielding a bronze paintbrush like a weapon. Sheppard spotted Ronon' triangle's on his arms, an Athosian word from Teyla, and an Ancient word from Rodney. “May I?”

“Nothing untoward,” Sheppard said.

Lorne scoffed. “I already have the perfect thing in mind.”

John could only catch small glimpses of his arm over the next couple minutes, but was unable to deduce what it was Lorne was painting, until he stepped back to admire his own handiwork.

“That’s incredible,” John said. He wouldn’t have believed it had been completed so fast, if he hadn’t watched it happen. It was a perfect image of a Puddlejumper, covering most of his forearm.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please don’t ask me to paint something for you, nothing I could do would compare to this.”

Lorne grinned. “Come on, just something small.”

John dipped his brushed into some purple paint and tried to find a place to begin – there wasn’t room for anything other than small, as the villagers had taken up nearly every piece of real estate. He quickly painted the symbol of his favorite sharpshooter. When he finished, Lorne was grinning, unfazed by his lack of skill.

 

 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, exactly, but it wasn’t long before the villagers had painted over much of his skin with birds and flowers and small animals.

 

 

“Oh man, that is cool,” John said when he saw Rodney for the first time since the painting began. Lorne’s handiwork was immediately recognizable in the orange and gold ZPM on Rodney’s arm.

“What did you get?” he asked. John held out his arm, showing the Jumper. “Did you know he could paint?”

John shook his head, and reached for his brush. As he’d suspected, there was no shortage of paint covering Rodney’s body. He painted a small bat on his chest, then put the brush down again.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Rodney asked.

“It’s Batman,” he said.

“More like Blobman.”

“It’s Batman,” he said again, somewhat defensively. “I’d like to see you do better.”

Rodney grabbed his brush, poised to prove that he could do better, but stopped short.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea what to paint,” he said, frowning. He dropped his brush hand to his side, thinking about to design to draw.

“You put Ancient words on the others, didn’t you?” Sheppard said.

“Yes. _Strength_ for Ronon, and _harmony_ for Teyla, and _honor_ for Lorne. Various other inconsequential words for the many people I don’t know. But I have no idea what to do for you. And Lorne already did the obvious thing.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” John said.

“No, I’ll think of something,” he said, tapping his brush against his hand.

 

 

“The party is winding down,” Teyla said. People all around were moving away from the fire, and some were lying in the grass, fast asleep. “We are invited to sleep under the stars with them. It is tradition.”

“It is a nice night,” Lorne said.

“Radio your team, colonel,” Sheppard said, a smile on his lips. “Have them check in with Atlantis, tell them we’ll be back in the morning.”

 

 

Someone had put out the bonfire before everyone fell asleep, but the clearing was still lit by a pair of moons.

“It is a nice night,” Rodney said, trying to get comfortable on the solid ground beneath him. Ronon was already snoring loudly behind him, and Teyla had her mouth hung open slightly, telling him she too was fast asleep.

“It is,” John agreed. “Get some sleep, Rodney.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Just relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Rodney said. “More relaxed than I’ve ever been, possibly. And I’m covered in paint. I never expected that those two things would coincide.”

John chuckled as he stared up at the stars. They were different than the ones he was accustomed to, but beautiful just the same.

Rodney turned over again, staring up at the sky as well.

“Do you see that one that looks kind of like a cockroach?” John asked.

Rodney didn’t answer. Suddenly he sat up, wriggling out from under the thin sheet the Etarans had provided.

“Rodney? Where are you going?” John asked, louder than he should have.

“Shh. I’ll be right back.”

John frowned and watched him for a moment, then settled back down. Sure enough, Rodney returned a few minutes later, holding a paintbrush and a small cup of paint. He sat down next to John, with his legs crossed under him.

“I figured out what I wanted to paint,” he said. “Just, don’t move, okay?”

John nodded, moving his arms away from his chest so Rodney would have room. Rodney dipped the brush into the well and began. John watched his face, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. Though painting may not have been part of his skill set, his hands were steady.

“There,” he said. “All done.” He scooted back, setting the paint where neither of them might knock it over.

John looked down at it and smiled. Rodney had painted (over the swirling blobs of color created by a dozen or so villagers) with white – a series of dots in varying sizes, connected by thin lines. He immediately recognized it as one of the constellations that lived in the sky over Atlantis. John had always said it looked a little like an owl.

“Think you can sleep now?” John asked.

“Maybe.” He was silent only for a few moments because opening his mouth. “You know, owls have represented wisdom since Greek times. I don’t really know why, it’s not like they’re the smartest in the animal kingdom or anything.”

“Rodney.”

“But that’s not the point. The point is, they represent wisdom. And they’re very good fliers. So, in a way, they’re kind of you and I, mixed into one.”

John propped himself up on one elbow, leaded over Rodney, and kissed him. “Go to sleep,” he said, lying back down.

 

 

They return to Atlantis the next morning, and were immediately met with laughter. John looked up at the balcony, where Teldy stood, doubled over. “Oh, man, someone get me a camera,” she said. The rest of the control room attendants looked amused as well, but none so brazen to laugh at the leaders of Atlantis.

“Watch yourself, Teldy,” Sheppard said. “I have the power to make sure you’re invited to the next ceremony.”

She sobered quickly.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Lorne said. “Kinda fun, actually.”

“I had fun,” Ronon agreed. Though the rest of the team had redressed before their return, he hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on.

“As did I,” Teyla said.

“Great fun was had by all,” Sheppard said.

“Good for you all. You still look ridiculous.”

“Thank you for your valuable insight.”

She smiled and waved them on. “Beckett is waiting to do your physicals.”

 

 

“Maybe we should have our own festival,” John said, as Rodney kissed him under the stars.

“Maybe. It would be a nice change from the usual parties around here.” The ones were everyone drank to forget. “Maybe Radek and I can program the city lights to glow a different color for a while, too.”

“You think?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll have to trade for paints,” John said. “I doubt the IOA will approve the requisition.”

“The IOA just doesn’t know how to party.”

“Admit it, you’re totally glad I dragged you out of the lab for this,” John said, smirking.

“I’m days behind on my work, and it’s entirely your fault. But I suppose there is more to life than sitting in my lab day after day.”

“Ha!”

“Smugness is not an attractive feature.”

“All of my features are attractive,” was Sheppard’s retort.

“Yes, they are,” Rodney said, kissing his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Athene is a genus of small owls, and probably the name of the owl constellation in the database.


End file.
